Die, Black, Die Slowly
by Philippa
Summary: A collection of canon companion scenes written in EPOV.
1. Die, Black, Die Slowly

**A/N **ECLIPSE SPOILER This story is companion scene to the section of Eclipse where Edward goes to get Bella after she breaks her hand on Jacob's face. I've always been a little disappointed by Edward's extreme restraint in this scene, although when I thought it out I realized that _of course_ he couldn't lose his temper because either he or Jacob would end up dead. So I decided to go where the real action is—inside Edward's head.

**Disclaimer** Characters, dialogue, and plot structure taken from Eclipse. (Meyer, Stephenie. Eclipse. New York: Little, Brown, 2007. 336-341.)

This story is for entertainment purposes only. No profits of any sort have been incurred thereby.

**Invocation to the Muse **Drat you, Robert Pattinson! I have four papers to write, a stack of homework to grade, and I haven't had a clear view of the floor of my room in weeks (if not months). Yet here I sit, writing fanfiction. I hope you're pleased with yourself.

**Die, Black. Die Slowly.**

I turned the Volvo into a sharp right that sprayed gravel toward the trees and then forced myself to let up on the accelerator. There were only so many times I could snake back and forth along the reservation border without going out of my mind. Driving slowly was also aggravating, however, and I knew that I should stop being so stubborn and go home, or at least make a larger loop so that I could release tension with increased speed. But the things Jacob Black had been thinking, and not just thinking but thinking _at_ me …

_I'm telling her I love her, Bloodsucker, and she's going to know she has options. Options for happiness that don't include you. How do you feel about that?_

It made me feel like rending him limb from limb. I wanted to dismember him, encase the pieces in concrete, and drop them into the middle of the Pacific. Or better yet, the Arctic. I indulged in a brief daydream where I lured Black to Antarctica and then buried him at temperatures even his body heat couldn't withstand.

But I wouldn't ever threaten him with my little fantasy. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his rivalry disturbed me. I was determined to appear absolutely confident that Bella was mine and would remain mine. Even though I wasn't at all sure of that.

Despite myself, I couldn't help seeing how good Jacob might have been for Bella—he made her laugh, knew how to comfort her when she cried. He could have given her children. Part of me, the part that knew that loving Bella made me the most selfish being on the planet, actually agreed with the mongrel when he told me that he was Bella's best option. But on the other hand, there was the problem of the Volturi. Of course, that was also my fault. Sometimes I couldn't decide who I hated more: the dog or myself.

My cell rang, a welcome distraction from my miserable reverie. Snatching it up, I glanced at the caller ID and saw the Swan number. Surprised, my eyes flickered to the dashboard clock as I flipped open the phone—it was at least two hours before I expected Bella's call, since she usually prolonged her visits to the reservation as much as possible. And if she was home, it meant she was already off Quileute land.

"Bella?" I asked, my delight evident in the warmth of my tone. The less time she spent with Jacob Black, of course, the happier I was, but more than that, these visits tortured me because they made her inaccessible. I could not keep watch over her. If she needed me, I could not go to her. And she was so breakable. That, at least, was one thing I would not regret about her change.

I was already turning onto the road to Forks, inching up the speedometer. "You left the phone … I'm sorry, did Jacob drive you home?" Another reason I had been stalking the reservation border like a madman.

"Yes," she muttered, sounding disgruntled. "Will you come and get me, please?"

"I'm on my way," I promised, pushing the needle up another five miles, frowning over her obvious lack of cheer. "What's wrong?"

She sighed heavily. "I want Carlisle to look at my hand. I think it's broken."

Bella was hurt. Again. Despite the vow I had sworn to never, ever, let her be damaged. My speedometer gained ten miles, and I mentally cursed Black, who was supposed to be taking care of her. _Some guard dog_. "What happened?" I asked, trying to keep the anger, and also the anxiety, out of my tone. Whenever I was separated from Bella, I lived in fear of a call that would tell me she had broken not her hand but her neck. I knew she was an adult, that I had to allow her autonomy, but she was so _damn breakable_. As she had once more proved.

"I punched Jacob," Bella said bleakly.

She had punched Black? Hard enough to break her hand? That meant they had had a fight. That was … "Good," I answered, unable to keep the grim satisfaction out of my tone, but even that wasn't worth her pain. "Though I'm sorry you're hurt."

She laughed, and it sounded uncharacteristically bitter. "I wish I'd hurt _him_," she muttered, and then emitted a sigh that was more like a growl. "I didn't do any damage at all."

I smiled, remembering the fantasies I had just entertained. "I can fix that," I reminded her, expecting her to flatly reject the offer the way she always did when I suggested putting the mutt in his place.

"I was hoping you would say that."

For a moment, I didn't respond. The response was so utterly unlike my forgiving, tolerant, 'the wolf is my brother' Bella that I knew Black must have seriously transgressed. "That doesn't sound like you," I said carefully, trying to stay calm. But I couldn't keep the steel out of my tone as I demanded, "What did he _do_?"

"He kissed me."

Red mist floated before my eyes, and it was a moment before I realized that I had floored the accelerator. I hadn't felt this much pure rage since the days of my rebellion. _I'll kill him_. I suddenly realized I was in Forks, only a block from Bella's house, and still on the phone. "Is the dog still there?" I managed through gritted teeth.

"Yes."

"I'm around the corner," I promised, and then we lost the connection as my fingers crunched through the frail plastic of the phone. Trying to regain some measure of control even as I slammed to a stop in front of the house, I desperately reminded myself that harming Black would also hurt Bella. Even though she was angry right now, she still cared for him, so lovely as the idea sounded, I could not rip his head from his body and punt it into Canada. Reminding myself to breathe, I released the steering wheel, noting the new dents my fingers had left in its underside. _Bella,_ I reminded myself. _Just protect Bella_._ Nothing else matters_.

I was waiting on the porch by the time Bella opened the door, listening to the thoughts inside. Charlie's were actually quite amusing, had I been in the mood to be diverted. _Cullen's here already? I swear the kid stakes out the house, I'm tripping over him every time I turn around. I hope this doesn't get messy. Not I wouldn't mind seeing Jake pound that pretty face into the ground, but it would upset Bella, and probably ruin Jake's chances. Gutsy kid, and would I ever like him to have a chance…Better try to keep him from going out._

Black's thoughts were consciously pointed. _Can you hear me, Leech? She knows she has options. Really good options._ And then I was remembering with him, remembering a very passionate kiss with Bella, _my_ Bella, the kind of kiss I was unable to give her. I felt her body straining against him, the pressure of her lips, and then the soft, intoxicating interior of her mouth. Had Bella not opened the door in that instant, I would have torn it from its hinges.

And seeing her, things slammed back into perspective. Protecting Bella. Nothing else mattered. I was still furious, still jealous, but those feelings were eclipsed by her presence. Bella came first, now and always. "Let me see," I murmured, gently lifting her swelling hand, and examining it cautiously, not wanting to increase her discomfort. I could feel the displacement of the tiny bone beneath her skin and tried to cheer her up. "I think you're right about the break. I'm proud of you. You must have put some force behind this."

Her lower lip protruded in a faint pout that, even under the current circumstances, I found adorable. "As much as I have." She sighed disgustedly. "Not enough, apparently."

I had to repress a smile. No matter how well I thought I knew her, unexpected facets of Bella continued to emerge. I pressed her injured hand to my lips, feeling the extra warmth that radiated from the swelling, and inhaled her fragrance. Even accompanied by eau de werewolf, Bella was still infinitely more appealing than any other scent in the universe. "I'll take care of it," I promised, meaning her broken hand, the mongrel who had imposed on her, and really, anything else she would ever need. Around Bella, I couldn't help thinking extravagantly. But now was the moment to deal with the dog. "Jacob," I said softly, knowing that my voice would carry through the thin walls of the house.

"Now, now," Charlie cautioned, but Jacob was already moving out into the hall, my prospective father-in-law close behind him.

_Anytime, Bloodsucker. Name the place_, he promised silently, meeting my gaze fearlessly. For a moment, I wished I had Jasper's ability to manipulate emotion, so I could compel fear onto that cocky countenance.

"I don't want any fighting, do you understand?" Charlie said firmly, also looking at me. _And if you start anything, Cullen, so help me, I will ban you from this house. _"I can go put my badge on if that makes my request more official."

But I still held Bella's hand in mine, a more effective restraint than any officer of the law. "That won't be necessary."

Charlie's thoughts tumbled on. _It's weird … I'm relieved … I'd like to see Jake take him down, he's twice as big, but something about Cullen … the way he handles himself … I'd be scared for Jake …_

Beside me, Bella stood stiff and angry. "Why don't you arrest me, Dad? I'm the one throwing punches," she snapped.

Charlie quirked an eyebrow and glanced at Black. "Do you want to press charges, Jake?" _It's not Bella I'd like to lock up down at the station. Why can't she have boyfriend I don't want to arrest?_

"No." The dog leered, pointedly replaying his memory of the kiss. "I'll take the trade any day."

I couldn't help grimacing slightly, but this time I was prepared and followed the memory through. _Remember this is Black's point of view_, I reminded myself desperately, and then I had my reward as the memory played itself out, and I felt Bella's utter unresponsiveness, and saw the blank look on her face as the kiss ended, before she clouted him. I suddenly felt immeasurably better, and for a moment wished Black could read _my_ thoughts. _You may think you've scored, cur, but when I stop kissing her, she's usually pleading for more._

"Dad, don't you have a baseball bat somewhere in your room? I want to borrow it for minute," Bella snarled, glaring at Black in a way that warmed my cold, dead heart.

"Enough, Bella," Charlie responded, finally transferring his gaze from me to her. _Bella, are you blind? Jake is worth a hundred of this guy. Why can't she see?_ And then, as she continued to glare at Jacob, _She looks like a poodle trying to threaten a mastiff._ He repressed a chuckle.

I had to agree that the sight of tiny, defiant Bella against the oversized Black was amusing. "Let's go have Carlisle look at your hand before you wind up in a jail cell," I suggested, slipping an arm around her (much to Black's chagrin) and pulling her toward the door.

"Fine," she breathed, leaning against me, and I felt some of her tension immediately evaporate. Happiness that I could comfort her so easily flared inside me, and for a moment, I almost forgot the monster behind me. Of course, that blissful state of affairs was immediately shattered as Black sent me a graphic picture of himself biting my arm off. _Only in your dreams, Pup_, I thought contemptuously, and led Bella out to the car.

Black followed us, and I have to admit I was glad. I was tired of the shadow battles and wanted this thing laid out between us. Charlie, fortunately, stayed in the house, although I could still feel his thoughts hovering anxiously in the background. He was trying to figure out what to tell Billy Black and/or Carlisle if one of us were seriously injured on the premises.

I stowed Bella safely in the car, before allowing myself the pleasure of telling the dog exactly how matters stood. "I'm not going to kill you now, because it would upset Bella." She made a dissenting noise, and I turned to reach through the window and brush her cheek, laughing silently at the sudden stream of mental profanity. The canine was not particularly imaginative. "It would bother you in the morning," I reminded the most loyal woman in the world, and turned back to the business at hand, all levity gone. It was only honorable to give him one warning. "But if you ever bring her back damaged again—and I don't care whose fault it is; I don't care if she merely trips, or if a meteor falls out of the sky and hits her in the head—if you return her to me in less than the perfect condition that I left her in, you will be running with three legs. Do you understand that, mongrel?"

Black rolled his eyes, equally convinced that I could never do what I threatened and that he would never allow anything to happen to Bella.

"Who's going back?" she muttered behind me, and I momentarily ignored her, although I sincerely hoped she would hold to the threat.

I had one more specific promise to make. "And if you ever kiss her again, I _will_ break your jaw for her." Actually, I would rather horsewhip him, but the fur would make the effectiveness of that particular punishment difficult. _Of course, I could always shave him first_…

_He's afraid this will happen again_, Black gloated, momentarily forgetting that I could hear his thoughts as he asked, with insufferable arrogance, "What if she wants me to?"

"If that's what she wants, then I won't object," I answered, and I meant it. If Bella wanted a dog, then she could have a dog. But I was certain, at that moment at least, that she didn't, and I didn't intend to allow this particular canine any chance to manipulate my generosity. "You might want to wait for her to _say_ it, rather than trust your interpretation of body language—but it's your face." The prospect was almost enough to make me hope he'd try something again.

Black grinned, and I was favored with a sudden, involuntary replay of several of his favorite fantasies: Bella whispering his name softly in the dark, Bella cuddling on his lap as they sat on the rocks to watch the tide, Bella kissing him frantically while wearing less and less and …

"You wish," Bella muttered darkly.

"Yes, he does," I answered softly, pinning Black with my gaze.

He suddenly realized what I had just overheard, and mentally cringed. He wanted to taunt me, but this was his private life, reflections of his dearest desire, and it hurt to helplessly parade them before a hostile audience.

And suddenly, I felt a surge of pity for Jacob Black. At bottom was the fact that anyone who truly loved Bella could never be my enemy. I would loathe Black every day of my undead existence, but ultimately, he and I were on the same side—Bella's side. He was arrogant and obnoxious, but he was also very young and very deeply in love with a woman whose lure I understood all too well.

"Well, if you're done rummaging through my head," he snarled, "why don't you go take care of her hand?"

I wanted to, but a sense of honor, almost of comradeship, forced me to linger and say, "One more thing. I'll be fighting for her, too. You should know that. I'm not taking anything for granted, and I'll be fighting twice as hard as you will." Because I had more to lose.

He was certainly not lacking in spirit. Far from quailing at the challenge, he embraced it. "Good. It's no fun beating someone who forfeits."

I listened to his blazing conviction that he _could _beat me, and for a moment almost believed it. "She _is_ mine." I lost the edge of my control, as I faced fully the enormity of the threat. "I didn't say I would fight fair." And I wouldn't. I would press every advantage, material, emotional, and otherwise, that I had.

"Neither did I." He wouldn't either. The old cliché "all's fair in love and war" suddenly took on new and very personal meaning.

"Best of luck," I returned, suddenly ready to end the conversation.

He nodded. "Yes, may the best _man_ win."

"That sounds about right … pup." I told myself that I was actually as certain as I sounded. I had seventy years of experience on him, not to mention a fortune, the ability to pick his plans out of his mind, and a sister who saw a changed Bella in the future. I was going to win this thing.

I had to.

_The End_

**A/N** Thanks so much for reading and I hope you had fun! Please review! This is my first Twilight fic, and I'd really appreciate feedback on how I did!


	2. The Dog Started It

**A/N** When I wrote the first one of these, I had intended for that to be it. But it was so well received, and so many people asked for more, that I couldn't resist! So for those of you who reviewed my first EPOV, this is for you—sometimes you actually get the things you wish for!

This is a companion scene to the part of Eclipse, chapter 3, where Jacob confronts Edward and Bella at their school. Just so that there is no confusion, let me explain what I mean by companion scene: A scene which has identical dialogue and action sequence to a section in the canon, but which is told from an alternate point of view, giving us a different take on characters' thoughts, emotions, and motivations.

**Disclaimer** Characters, dialogue, and plot structure taken from Eclipse. (Meyer, Stephenie. Eclipse. New York: Little, Brown, 2007. 75-85.)

This story is for entertainment purposes only. No profits of any sort have been incurred thereby.

**Thanks** to Kimjustkim for doing the beta thing!

**The Dog Started It**

I smelled him first. The wind must have been blowing just right because we were still around the corner. Then again, with a scent that strong, I might be upwind and still have to suffer. I automatically stopped breathing, even as I reached out to try and read the dog's thoughts.

It was Jacob Black, of course it was, and the kid was one seething mass of emotion. Sharp anticipation over seeing Bella writhed with his instinctual hatred for vampires and his very personal hatred for me, while satisfaction over the message he had come to deliver simultaneously strengthened his desire for violence and made him smug. He was a phase disaster waiting to happen.

The steering wheel began to buckle beneath my grip, and I struggled desperately to relax my hands. Rosalie had already replaced it once, and while I was sure she'd be happy to do it again, I wasn't going to endure a second round of her snide remarks on my temper that she felt the repair job entitled her to.

"If I asked you to do something, would you trust me?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but taking the cheap shot out of desperation anyway.

My tension was evident in my voice, and I saw Bella's surprise on her face, even though I couldn't access her thoughts. I heard her heart speed up as she caught my anxiety, but it was accompanied by an expression of wariness. "That depends."

"I was afraid you would say that," I muttered as I swung into the parking lot. There was no way she would remain safely in the car after she spotted Black, and Black and myself face to face after what had happened … not to mention that half the reason for the trip to Florida was to keep Bella from finding out …

"What do you want me to do, Edward?" she asked, her wariness turning to suspicion.

"I want you to stay in the car," I said frankly but without much hope, as I slid into my spot and killed the engine. "I want you to wait here until I come back for you." The stench had increased and seemed to coat the inside of my mouth, since I'd had to resume breathing to talk to Bella.

"But … _why_?" she demanded.

Even the lightning reflexes of my brain couldn't create an answer to persuade her, and it was too late anyway. She had spotted him through the window. "Oh," she said, automatically, understandingly, even as her spine stiffened.

For a moment, I let myself pretend that her tension came from fear, that Bella was terrified of the monster on the sidewalk, that what she really wanted me to do was speed out of the parking lot and never allow one of the big, ugly dogs within ten miles of her ever again.

In my dreams. If Bella had her way, the three of us would go out for coffee somewhere, to talk things over like reasonable beings. Unfortunately, werewolves are not reasonable, but I didn't think I'd ever get Bella to believe that.

"You jumped to the wrong conclusion last night," I explained, forestalling the next question I knew she'd ask. "He asked about school because he knew that I would be where you were. He was looking for a safe place to talk to me. A place with witnesses." Would the witnesses be enough to keep Black under control? I wasn't worried about myself, but if Black lost his temper, I'd be forced to respond in kind. The children walking past could have no idea how close they were to an incarnation of the horror movie of the century, even if they did give Black a scrupulously wide berth.

"I'm not staying in the car," she informed me.

I groaned in frustration. "Of course not." Bella, after all, was the one who had thought jumping off a cliff to inspire a hallucination was a good idea. "Well, let's get this over with." The more time we gave Black to stew on the sidewalk, the more wound up he would get.

I secured Bella's hand in my own as we walked toward him, determined to keep my body between her and the werewolf, so that I could push her out of the way if things suddenly turned ugly. I had never met Emily Young, but I had seen her face in the minds of others, and it was not a pretty sight.

As we approached, Black's thoughts grew even more frenzied. My scent was affecting him, as was my contact with Bella. In fact, his reaction on that count was remarkably similar to what I knew my own would be if I ever saw him lay a finger on her. But the thought of any sort of sympathy between Black and myself was unacceptable, and I immediately dismissed it.

I didn't get too close, not just out of personal preference but to keep Black as calm as possible. There was an odd buzzing around the edges of his mind—the possibility of phase. At the moment, he was firmly pushing it back, but I had no reliance on his control, and I made sure Bella was safely behind me before I spoke. "You could have called us." _And avoided the danger. Or was that too logical of a solution for an animal?_

"Sorry," he sneered, clearly everything _but_. "I don't have any leeches on my speed dial." I didn't mind the insult. What I did mind were the images he had of me clamping onto Bella's neck like a parasite. Oddly enough, they affronted my pride.

"You could have reached me at Bella's house, of course," I jabbed back, wanting to rub in that I practically lived there.

The buzzing hum that rimmed his mind surged forward and was pushed back. He scowled darkly at me and suddenly, unexpectedly, there was a scene from an old black and white film about the days of King Arthur. One knight was throwing his gauntlet at the other, _We shall fight to the death, sir, for the lady's hand_.

_What a pup_, I thought, briefly diverted. If Black was a threat, at least he was an unsophisticated one. "This is hardly the place, Jacob. Could we discuss this later?" _I don't have my gauntlets with me_.

He had momentarily forgotten that I could read minds and thought I referred to his mission. "Sure, sure. I'll stop by your crypt after school." He must have only had a black and white television because there were more grayscale images, which I recognized from a version of _Dracula_ Carlisle had forced us to watch during one of his awareness-of-cultural-perceptions-of-vampires kicks. _Actually, Black, a crypt wouldn't be a bad place to dispose of you. It would take a long time for them to find the body …_ "What's wrong with now?"

'_With stupidity the gods themselves contend in vain,'_ I quoted silently, not that Black would even know who Friedrich von Schiller was. I glanced deliberately at our witnesses, all of whom were hoping for a fight. A really bloody one. They were not envisioning their own blood getting spilled in the process. There was no reason to drag this out any farther, since Black's message was pounding insistently in his brain, so forcefully I'd heard it around the block:

_If there is ever a repeat of Saturday's events, if one of you bloodsuckers puts so much as a fang across our line, the treaty is over. And you will __not__ be taking Bella with you._ I guessed that last part was a personal addendum.

"I know what you came to say. Message delivered. Consider us warned." I said, so low that no one but the werewolf's hearing could pick up. And of course, Bella. She would find out, now, of course she would find out. And all my careful planning to shield her rendered worthless by an _ill-mannered, mangy …_

Black's thoughts faltered as he remembered that I could read his mind and then frantically tried to recover, to produce a bold front, but I was more focused on Bella.

Her eyes were wide with new apprehension. "Warned? What are you talking about?"

"You didn't tell her?" Black demanded, outwardly shocked, inwardly gloating. "What, were you afraid she'd take our side?" The insolent cur actually thought that she _would_. But that wasn't the issue at stake.

"Please drop it, Jacob," I requested, forcing myself to use his name, forcing myself to sound calm, even polite.

_I don't know what game you're playing, leech, but I am not about to drop it. Not even when you say 'please.'_ "Why?"

Bella's beautiful brow creased in a frown, and my desire to kill Black renewed itself with a vengeance. "What don't I know? Edward?"

_You __will__ suffer you misbegotten, flea-ridden, vomit-eating, drone-minded …_

When I didn't answer, Bella appealed to the dog. "Jake?" I didn't want her asking him for anything, I'd rather tell her myself, but I was too angry to speak. Perhaps I had been cocky about my own ability to control my temper around Black.

He was both smug about thwarting me and tensing with the remembered violence of the weekend. "He didn't tell you that his big … _brother_ crossed the line Saturday night?" Black switched his focus to me, all of his prejudice displayed in ugly array. _They don't know the meaning of brotherhood. __We__ are brothers. Brothers are of the blood. They join together only to kill... _"Paul was totally justified in—"

"It was no man's land," I reminded him. _Trust a dog to lie about his territory_.

"Was not!" _Think we don't know own territory? Think we don't know our own territory? Think we don't…_ The buzz surged forward, saturating his mind, and he physically trembled, fighting it.

"Emmett and Paul? What happened? Were they fighting? Why? Did Paul get hurt?" Bella's voice pitched higher and higher with her anxiety, and I tried mechanically to comfort her, ninety percent of my focus pinned to Black. "No one fought, no one got hurt. Don't be anxious." I hoped the words were getting through to Black, too. He was perilously close to the edge, his eyes wide as he strained.

Then the buzzing in his mind assumed a new, keening quality, underscored by some repeated rhythm, but I couldn't pay attention to it because other words were pouring out. "You didn't tell her anything at all, did you? Is that why you took her away? So she wouldn't know that—"

I stopped being human. There was a werewolf on the verge of phasing less than a dozen feet from me, and I could no longer hold back my natural instincts. My face, my stance, and even the quality of my vision shifted, imperceptibly, and I was no longer Edward Cullen, repeat high school student. I was a vampire. I was built to kill. Here was my enemy.

But there was still Bella.

So instead of attacking, I managed one last warning, "Leave. Now."

The buzzing in Black's brain abruptly disappeared. Instead, there was a gleeful little voice commenting, _Well. That got him._

He slowly raised his eyebrows, goading me, but now that he was no longer on the verge of phasing, I could rein in my own instincts. "Why haven't you told her?" he asked softly, pointedly.

_That should be obvious,_ I fumed. Jacob Black thought he was in love with Bella. I had known that ever since we returned from Italy. And if he was in love with her, then it ought to be apparent why I most emphatically did not want her to know that Victoria had made another attempt to find her. In the name of the Volturi, his mythology taught him that he was guard dog. Didn't he have any protective instincts? I held his gaze fiercely with my own, hoping he would get the message.

And then Bella figured it out. She went rigid and started hyperventilating, literally trembling from head to toe. In one odd way, it was comforting—Bella so often plunged blithely into danger that it was nice to know she had _some_ fear instincts. This was how normal humans reacted to vampires. This was how I wished she would react to werewolves. This was how I would be eternally grateful she did not react to me. Nevertheless, it put pangs back into my senseless heart to see her like this.

"She came back for me," she gasped, and I held her as tightly as I dared, although that was only a fraction of my strength. I wanted to cling to her so tightly the very molecules of our bodies would be forced to bond, so she would know beyond doubt that she was the better half of my soul, and that I would never let Victoria destroy the best part of me.

I took my eyes off Black for the first time since our conversation had begun. His mind was quiet now, and I had more important places to focus. "It's fine, it's fine, I'll never let her get close to you, it's fine." I crooned the words in the same way I sang her lullaby, gently stroking her face, desperate to soothe her, to impart my confidence that I could keep her safe. (As long as she didn't insist on hanging out with Jacob Black.)

After a moment, her heartbeat slowed, and I had time to be angry again. "Does that answer your question, Mongrel?" I snarled, again ready to dismember him. How dare he distress my Bella in this manner?

He wasn't even concerned for her, at least not for the pain _he_ had caused. He was too busy worrying about the supposed manipulation she suffered under my hands. "You don't think Bella has a right to know? It's her life." His voice was too loud, and I was afraid he would be overheard by our audience.

I deliberately pitched my voice lower than necessary, hoping he would take the hint. "Why should she be frightened when she was never in danger?" Bella had already endured too much suffering because of me. It was trend I was determined to end. Now.

"Better frightened than lied to," he snapped back.

Bella drew a shuddering breath and tears leaked beneath her eyelids, and I could sense how desperately she was trying to control her fear and how miserably she was failing. With the lightest touch I could manage, I brushed the tears away, feeling as though my heart were dying all over again. I felt helpless, and I think that was evident in my voice as I asked, "Do you really think hurting her is better than protecting her?"

His thoughts snapped back an answer: _Of course not, but you're the one who hurts her, who always hurts her. And besides …_ "She's tougher than you think," he finished the thought out loud. "And she's been through worse."

I hadn't thought it was possible to feel more irritated than I already did, but Black seemed to have a talent for pushing me to new heights. I knew Bella was strong, resilient, courageous, but that didn't mean I would allow her to suffer if I could ... And then I was distracted as Black deliberately pulled a memory forward, pulled it from somewhere I couldn't see, from inside the buzzing, and as it emerged I realized that it must be a pack memory. But that was all the critical thinking I had time to do before the realization of what I was seeing hit me, and I almost doubled over with the pain of it.

_Bella lay on the forest floor, curled on her side, her soft brown hair matted with leaves and half concealing her face. Her eyes were open, but dull and unfocused. She looked dead, and only the soft, slow sound of her heartbeat indicated otherwise._ (The perspective wasn't helped by oddly tinged gray tones, and one tiny part of my mind that wasn't paralyzed with horror realized that this must be wolf night vision.) _Concern surged through me as I asked softly, "Bella? Bella, are you hurt?"_

_She didn't respond at first, didn't even blink. Then her lips moved slowly, as though trying to remember the function of speech. Her voice rasped, was so low even my super sensitive hearing strained to catch the two flat words. "He's gone."_

So this was what I had done to her. I bit the inside of my lip to stifle a groan as everything beneath my skin writhed, scored by a thousand burning brands. Here lay my bright angel, all but extinguished by my own folly. The pain was far worse than anything even the talented Jane could inflict.

A wash of amusement flooded the agonizing image. "That's funny," Black chuckled, laughing with more real mirth than I had ever heard from him. I realized that my anguish was scrawled across my face, and too late I closed my expression, fighting to pull out of the memory, not willing to surrender this weapon to him.

"What are you doing to him?" Bella demanded, her tone filled with pain and anger. At least her fear had dissipated.

"It's nothing, Bella. Jacob has a good memory, that's all." I tried to make my tone reassuring, but shuddered again as the memory jumped ahead. _A frightened Charlie ran toward me, his arms stretched out to receive his broken daughter. "He's gone," she said again._

"Stop it!" Bella seethed. "Whatever you're doing."

My loyal angel, protecting me from the werewolf. _Isn't this supposed to be the other way around?_

"Sure, if you want," Black agreed, all too amiable, and I almost collapsed in relief as he finally let the memory recede. "It's his own fault if he doesn't like the things I remember, though."

I knew that. I had fully accepted the responsibility of my actions, and I did not need this slavering mongrel to remind me of the atonement I had to make and never could. _Next time, Black, I will be the one laughing._

Again aware of the thoughts of those around me, I caught Principal Green's anxious focus on Black and his motorcycle. The last thing Bella needed was academic trouble. "The principal's on his way to discourage loitering on school property. Let's get to English, Bella, so you're not involved," I suggested, eager to bring the scene to a close.

_Oh, so you have to save her from the horrors of detention, too? You've got a complex, leech._ "Overprotective, isn't he?" Black asked in a confidential tone, pretending I was no longer there. "A little trouble makes life fun. Let me guess, you're not allowed to have fun, are you?"

He was remembering all the fun he had had with Bella while I was gone and gloating over what he termed my anal behavior. What killed me was that he was right. At the moment, Black, leaning oh so casually against his glossy motorcycle, definitely looked like more fun than I, with my "overprotective" tendencies, did. Hot jealousy cascaded through me yet again, and I just caught back a snarl.

"Shut up, Jake," Bella ordered, loyal to the end.

Black was laughing again, confident in their old friendship, boosted by what he thought was a flaw in my defenses. "That sounds like a _no_. Hey, if you ever feel like having a life again, you could come see me. I've still got your motorcycle in my garage."

"You were supposed to sell that. You promised Charlie you would." Bella was surprised, and, to my regret, not displeased.

Black was really ignoring me now, focusing every inch of his mind on Bella. _Come back to me, Bella, come back._ "Yeah, right. Like I would do that. It belongs to you, not me. Anyway, I'll hold on to it until you want it back." _When you come back to me. We ride together, right Bella?_

Never have I hated a piece of machinery as much as I did Black's motorcycle in that moment. Shiny though it was, it wasn't much of a machine—Rosalie would have laughed it to scorn, and I took some small satisfaction from that. But despite its inferior technology it represented a bond between Bella and Black, a bond of which I was definitely not a part. I imagined myself crunching the motorcycle into a neat, compact cube, and then making a nice, round dip on one side, using Black's head as a mold. I could give it to Esme as an innovative vase. _Mother's day is coming up …_

"Jake," Bella sighed, and I could hear the regret in her voice. She missed him.

I worked hard to keep my jealousy off my face, unwilling to add more fuel to Black's irritating fire.

He was leaning forward, looking earnest, serious, finally making the major move he'd been plotting ever since he'd weaseled this assignment. "I think I might have been wrong before, you know, about not being able to be friends. Maybe we could manage it, on my side of the line. Come see me." _Come back to me._

I had no intentions of allowing Bella to wander around the Quileute reservation, accompanied by one monster and surrounded by who knew how many others. But I was glad I had worked to keep my face clear of emotion, when she glanced up at me. I was still grateful she hadn't banned me last night after I disabled her truck to prevent her from driving to La Push, and I didn't want her to think I enjoyed foiling her wishes. Because I didn't. But giving in was not an option.

"I, er, don't know about that Jake," she stammered.

Black's features melted further until he looked positively pathetic. "I miss you every day, Bella. It's not the same without you."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Jake, I just …" I could hear the distress in her tone as she trailed off.

I could tell by his thoughts that he'd been expecting this. He was out to plant seeds, plotting for ultimate victory. I had to admit he surprised me—I wouldn't have expected a teenager who still thought in terms of King Arthur to be this devious. Picking his next move from his mind, I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes.

He sighed mournfully, with just a touch of melodrama. "I know. Doesn't matter, right? I guess I'll survive or something. Who needs friends?" He made a bizarre face, trying to look hurt but brave.

Naturally, Bella fell for it. Her tender heart wouldn't let her do otherwise. She shifted uneasily in my embrace, her instincts probably telling her to run and comfort the poor, brokenhearted werewolf. I remained immovable, determined not to indulge this particular manifestation of Bella's talent for leaping into the jaws of death.

At that moment, Mr. Greene forever endeared himself to me by breaking up the crowd and coming over to kick Black off school property. When the dog was finally gone, his piece of crap bike trailing an ugly cloud of exhaust that smelled slightly better than he did, the principal turned to me and said sternly, "Mr. Cullen, I expect you to ask your friend to refrain from trespassing again."

I repressed a sudden surge of amusement. This was probably the first and last time anyone would call Jacob Black my friend. "He's no friend of mine, Mr. Greene, but I'll pass along the warning." Along with one of my own.

There may not have been any actual gauntlets involved, but Black had definitely started something. He was actually plotting, strategizing to win Bella back (not that he had had anything other than her friendship in the first place), and I wasn't going to accept that passively.

As the last of the motorcycle's exhaust drifted away on the breeze, I wondered if the pup had any idea what he had just gotten himself into. I was no Newborn.

_The End_

**A/N** Please, please review! Reviewing produces results!


	3. To Be a Gentleman

**A/N** Thank you so very much to all of you who left me such wonderful reviews! They are the reason I'm still creating EPOV. This one uses a very different type of scene than the previous two, so keep an open mind!

This is for Kimjustkim, who wondered what Edward is thinking when he is so distracted in the kitchen and later while he is waiting for Bella in her bedroom. The scene picks up during their conversation in Bella's truck, after their memorable afternoon in the meadow.

**Thanks** also to Kimjustkim for her beta work!

**Disclaimer** Characters, dialogue, and plot structure taken from Twilight. (Meyer, Stephenie. Twilight. New York: Little, Brown, 2005. 291-299.)

This story is for entertainment purposes only. No profits of any sort have been incurred thereby.

**To Be a Gentleman**

"Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage." I broke off, suddenly shocked at myself. Completely unthinkingly, I had just revealed my entire family's most powerful secrets to a girl I had known for mere weeks. These were things we kept hidden even from others of our kind, but I had broken the ingrained habit of secrecy as easily as though the last hundred years had been only yesterday.

My internal revelation was interrupted as Bella's stomach muscles contracted, emitting a low but insistent rumbling, and I repressed a smile at her embarrassed expression. She couldn't understand how much I enjoyed her human noises—her stomach rumbling, heart beating, air inflating her lungs and rushing out again. Actually, few members of my family understood it either. Carlisle did, but I sometimes wondered whether there was anything Carlisle _didn't_ understand. And Rosalie did, although she would never admit it. But I knew how she would sometimes stand near a woman who had nearly come to term, straining to hear the tiny heartbeat that fluttered within her belly.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from your dinner," I hastily apologized, remembering that as interesting as the sound might be to me, it was actually a sign of Bella's discomfort, and that I had yet again neglected her frail humanity.

"I'm fine, really," she protested, still embarrassed.

"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget," I explained, mentally kicking myself. If I was selfish enough to endanger her with my presence, the least I could do was attend to her needs. From the very distant, almost obliterated past, my father's voice instructed, _"Care for a lady's comfort first, Edward. That is the impulse of a true gentleman."_ And I hadn't even been a vampire, back then.

Bella's voice was soft in the darkness, and its hesitancy and pleading caused tendrils of delight to wrap around my heart. "I want to stay with you." Even in the darkness, I could see the flush that suffused her cheeks.

Bella did not understand why I enjoyed her blushes, but the answer was quite simple. When Carlisle changed me, my body ceased to respond to my emotions. My heart no longer raced with excitement, and no adrenaline pumped through my veins with fear. I did not sweat with nervousness. My stomach did not churn with tension. I thought it probable this was why I had so many doubts about my own ultimate immortality—all the tangible parts of me were dead to spiritual impulses. But Bella was integrated—a whole person. When I was with her, I felt more whole than I had since I awoke for the last time to find myself a different creature.

And as my own longing surged up in response to hers, I could have sworn that my frozen heart shifted.

The little that remained of my good intentions crumbled away, and I pleaded, "Can't I come in?" It wasn't enough for me to spend the entire day with her, secluded from the knowledge of all her friends. Now I was going to follow her into a deserted, enclosed space, where her scent had been layering for weeks. At least in the meadow there had been room to run.

"Would you like to?" she asked uncertainly, and I would have given my right arm to know what she was thinking.

"Yes, if it's all right." Ignoring the guilt that had suddenly surged up from its usual gnawing at the edge of consciousness, I slipped out of the car to open her door.

"Very human," she said, smiling a little.

Remembering that odd twinge in my chest, I smiled back. "It's definitely resurfacing."

Opening doors for ladies was something else my first father had taught me. I snatched the spare key from its hiding place and opened the house door for her.

"The door was unlocked?" she asked, surprised, and I realized I had seized the key too quickly for her to see. Already, I was forgetting that I had ever tried to hide myself from her.

"No, I used the key from under the eave," I explained as we went in, and she shot me a penetrating look. "I was curious about you," I said delicately, although obsessed might have been more accurate.

"You spied on me?" she demanded, trying to look severe, but I could hear pleasure creeping through her voice.

"What else is there to do at night?" I asked, glad she wasn't upset because any apology on my part would have been utterly insincere. In the kitchen, I sank into a chair—Charlie's usual one by the smell of it—while she moved around, preparing her supper. I watched her moodily, wondering what she was thinking and pondering my own desperate need to know.

I had never experienced anything like the frustration I felt when I was repeatedly denied access to Bella's mind. Decades of knowing everyone else's thoughts as I pleased had left me with an insatiable need to know and no patience with not knowing. I reached out to her mind yet again, although it would do no good. I had learned to live with the constant wash of foreign images and sounds that ebbed and flowed around the edges of my consciousness when others were nearby, but with Bella there was only, always, silence. Now, after an entire day alone in her company, I had the oddest sensation of deafness.

I was concentrating so intently on breaking through that mental stillness that I actually missed her words when she spoke. "Hmmm?" I asked absently, slowly pulling my focus away from her frustratingly silent head.

"How often did you come here?" she repeated.

"I come here almost every night," I admitted, feeling rueful. At first I'd hoped that her mind would be easier to access when she was asleep, that I might at least learn of her through her dreams.

I was taken aback by her reaction as she spun toward me and demanded, "Why?"

"You're interesting when you sleep. You talk," I answered honestly. Her uncensored sleep speech was the closest I could get to reading her mind.

She didn't view it with the same appreciation. "No!" Her heart rate picked up as her face turned rosy—I didn't need to read her mind to read her distress.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, feeling helpless, not understanding why, after all we had said today, she was upset.

"That depends!" she gasped, her body again responding to her emotional state.

"On?" I inquired, when she failed to elaborate.

Bella sounded on the verge of tears. "What you heard!"

Somehow, I had hurt her. Unable to bear the physical separation, I went to her and took her hands. "Don't be upset!" I begged, feeling suddenly desperate, bending so that I could look straight into her eyes. She started to drop her gaze, but looked back up when I began to speak. "You miss your mother. You worry about her. And when it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it's less often now. Once you said, 'It's too _green_.'" I laughed at the memory, hoping she too would see the humor.

She wasn't distracted. "Anything else?"

I suddenly realized what she was worried about, and I knew why, although I didn't have time to think about it just then. "You did say my name." My favorite part, of course, of eavesdropping.

Bella groaned, closing her eyes. "A lot?"

"How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?" I evaded, but she knew what it meant.

"Oh no!" she moaned, hanging her head, so I could see the fiery red that burned the back of her neck.

I pulled her into my arms, reverently cradling her delicate form, as I whispered against her ear, "Don't be self-conscious. If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it." I inhaled her fragrance even as I heard Charlie's truck approach. When Bella heard it as well, she tensed. "Should your father know I'm here?"

Her brow furrowed in thought. "I'm not sure …"

"Another time then," I agreed and slipped out the back door.

She hissed my name and I laughed softly to let her know I had heard, then waited for Charlie to enter the house before I scaled the tree and let myself into Bella's room, via the window I had made silent weeks ago.

I could hear Charlie and Bella downstairs, talking about the day, eating their dinner. Keeping a small part of my attention focused so that I would know when someone started up the stairs, I lay on the bed, intending to mull over the revelation I had just experienced in the kitchen. But I was immediately distracted by the scent that billowed up around me as I sank into the mattress. Bella's room smelled of her intensely, of course, but if any inanimate object could hold the essence of Bella, it was her bed. Since Saturday was her usual laundry day and I had taken over her time, the sheets were saturated with seven days worth of scent, and I pressed my face into her pillow, inhaling as deeply as I could. I was tempted to crawl under the covers and pull them over my head, but restrained the impulse as childish and contented myself by pulling the pillow over my face. Why had I never thought of stealing her pillow before? Or at least the case. Moving soundlessly, I glided out into the hall to the tiny linen closet, removed an identical case, and had made the swap and stored the swag before Charlie had taken three bites. Mission accomplished, I settled back on the bed and the pillow which now smelled much less enticingly of detergent.

I had tried to explain to my brothers what the smell of Bella did to me, although it was nearly impossible to put into words. The first moment the warm air laden with her scent had rushed toward me, it was like a lightning energy flashed along my nerves, a sharp tingling that exploded across my entire body. It was like pain, it was like music, it was like the end of the world. I knew that the scent was nothing compared to what the taste would be, and I had never, in my memory, wanted anything so much as to drink her blood. Except for not drinking it.

I had proved to myself today that I was stronger than I ever dreamed I could be. Triumph soared through me, as I thought about the line I had figuratively drawn in the sand, the line I had succeeded in not crossing.

Then I stopped patting myself on the back and gave serious consideration to the thing I had realized earlier that evening.

I, Edward Cullen, was not a gentleman.

The truth had come as a shock. Before today, if anyone had asked me whether I considered myself a gentleman, I would have replied in the affirmative and felt faintly offended that they needed to ask. Maybe I wasn't as perfect of a gentleman as Carlisle, and I lacked Jasper's formal mannerisms, but I was undoubtedly a gentleman compared to, say, Emmett.

I remembered the distress I had felt when I first discovered my new gift, and how futilely I had tried to stay out of other people's minds. Over the years, I had learned to accept, then enjoy and exploit my ability. It occasionally annoyed my family, but they got revenge by starting trains of thought I would fervently wish I had not overheard, and it had been decades since I had been concerned about violating anyone's privacy.

Perhaps that was why I had thought so little of spying on Bella. I no longer thought of a person's mind as a private space. But she certainly had that expectation, and she hated the thought that I had eavesdropped on mere words. Somewhere in my mind, I had still known that humans expected mental privacy, and Bella's reaction hadn't been a true surprise. What had been was my own lack of remorse. I was sorry I had upset her, but I was not sorry I had done it. I would do it again in a heartbeat, and make a better job of keeping it from her. If she kept a journal, I would have read it.

Added to the basic fact of my spying was the fact that I had watched her in her bedroom, although admittedly only after she was asleep. I thought of myself as a peeping Tom and scrutinized my feelings. No. Still no guilt. How about the fact that I was now waiting for her in her bedroom with her oblivious father downstairs? I could faintly catch Charlie's thoughts. Bella was not the world's greatest actress, and he now suspected her of planning to sneak out that night, possibly to meet up with Mike Newton, while I had effortlessly slipped inside the pale of his defenses. No, not even a stirring of regret.

Bella was finally trudging up the stairs. Her steps were deliberately slow until the bedroom door shut behind her, and then she ran to the window without so much as a glance at me. "Edward?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Yes," I answered, laughing, and fought to control my amusement over her shock.

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart," she murmured from her position on the floor, and I reached over to pull her up beside me.

"Why don't you sit with me?" Any space at all between us was entirely too much. "How's the heart?"

She pouted. "You tell me—I'm sure you hear it better than I do."

I had to laugh. I couldn't believe how absolutely Bella had adjusted to my … otherness. She grew quiet, and I caught myself again futilely bouncing off the wall of her mind.

"Can I have a minute to be a human?" she asked suddenly.

"Certainly," I agreed, releasing her hand, determined not repeat my earlier error in forgetting about her dinner.

"Stay," she ordered, in the same voice one uses for large dogs.

"Yes, ma'am." I froze, not intending to move until she came back because it would make her laugh.

I could hear her down the hall in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and then starting the water for her shower. Something else happened, then. Something I should have seen coming but had forgotten about in a century of fighting blood lust.

The rush of water broke and became irregular as she stepped beneath the spray, and I could imagine exactly how she must look at that moment, with droplets streaming down her soft, pale curves, the heat of her body increasing with the warmth of the shower, her skin shining as she twisted under the water. I had no trouble recognizing desire as it shot through me, and I had to forcefully hold myself in my statue pose, my fingers clenching the fabric of the quilt until it was permanently wrinkled. It shocked me at first, how similar the sensation was to the one I felt when the scent of her blood hit me full on, but how different is one kind of wanting from another, really?

I could imagine too, how little time it would take me to dart down the hall and into the bathroom. I could almost feel the heat of her bare skin as my arms closed around her, hear the racing of her heart, first from surprise and then for another reason, as she welcomed me, molding her softness against my unyielding chill. If not tonight, then next week or next month.

No. I shuddered, and with an effort of will as strong as any I had used earlier that afternoon, I cleared the image from my mind. Even if Bella welcomed me, if she craved physical union with just a fraction of the force I did (which would be more than enough), it was too dangerous. One passionate kiss could knock her teeth loose, break her jaw, while a fervent embrace could pulverize her ribs. A vision just as clear as the last one flashed into my mind, but this time Bella lay in my arms bruised, broken, and motionless. I shuddered again, in horror.

But there were larger obstacles. Even if I could trust myself to restrain my strength in the blindness of passion, just as I now knew I could resist her blood, there was the matter of her soul. I found it as difficult to believe Bella lacked a soul as to think that I possessed one. One excuse by which I justified my selfishness was that our present arrangement was surely temporary. Sooner or later she would grow tired of me, and when that happened I would, of course, disappear from her life. But beyond that, she was mortal. One day, Bella's heart would stop its beloved beating, and she would pass through the curtain of death to whatever waited beyond. The responsibility weighed on me heavily—I could no more endanger her chances in that world than I could risk her safety in this one.

I could relinquish the title of gentleman without a qualm, but because I loved Bella, I could not let my selfishness rage completely unchecked. Down the hall the water ceased, and I heard the rough sound of the towel, the hiss of the comb as she drew it through her wet hair. By the time she pounded down the stairs to say goodnight to Charlie, I had made my decision.

There were two limits now, two lines I would not cross. My cynical side said they were damn little to keep the most important thing in my world safe, but I crushed the voice and listened instead to the thump of Bella's feet as she ran up the stairs, coming to me.

_The End_

**A/N** Love it? Hate it? Leave a review and tell me your favorite/least favorite part!


	4. Going Romeo

**A/N** This EPOV is slightly different from my previous offerings because it is much more like a missing scene than a companion scene; aside from the first line, none of the text is copied from Meyer's book. Furthermore, the immediate textual connection is not the book itself but an "official" missing scene published on Stephenie Meyer's Web site. If anyone hasn't read those, I suggest you do so now, both because this EPOV will make more sense if you know the scene I'm coming from and because they are, in themselves, delightful. This scene picks up exactly where Meyer's leaves off. (Meyer's scene can be found in the Extras link in the _New Moon_ section. It's titled "Rosalie's News.")

**Disclaimer** Inspired by "Rosalie's News." (Meyer, Stephanie. "Rosalie's News." The Official Website of Stephenie Meyer. 2006. w w w . stepheniemeyer . com.)

**Thanks** to Kimjustkim for prodding me to post this, even though it's not what I had originally envisioned.

**Going Romeo**

I shut the phone again.

And there was nothing.

I don't know how long it was before some semblance of awareness returned to me. It may have been only seconds. It may have been hours. It didn't matter. Time was irrelevant now, like everything else. There was only one task left—a task that held not meaning but an inevitable end.

The deck had been stacked against us from the start—I knew that now. How could it be otherwise when the supreme act of self-sacrifice led only to death? We were cursed. Or rather, I was cursed and I had cursed Bella with me, the moment she walked into Biology all those months ago. Nothing could save her once she met me. Not reason and not love and not sacrifice. If I had cheated fate in the beginning—pulled her from in front of the van, saved her from James, from Jasper, from myself, then fate had its revenge, driving her to throw herself over a cliff, ensuring me the greatest possible torment. The price I had paid to save Bella's frail humanity was now a mockery. Because she had ended it herself. Because of me. I never doubted that.

But I was through being the universe's whipping boy. I had to move quickly, before Alice could act on the visions no doubt flashing before her at this very moment.

Outside, the sun was still sinking into the west, but the shadows were long enough to cling to, so I slipped from my hiding place into the street. I traveled to the airport on foot—infinitely faster than taking a taxi through the packed streets, stopping only once to make a cash withdrawal—the last money I would ever need.

There was only one direct flight to Rome that evening.

"I'm sorry, sir, the flight is full," the desk attendant told me.

I stared at her dispassionately. "I will pay extra, of course."

She shifted, uncomfortable beneath my gaze, but she murmured, "I am sorry, sir. There are no seats available."

She was an obstacle. She had to be removed, and I mechanically dipped into the anxious thoughts that swarmed around her head. She had been gambling the night before, as she did every time she received a paycheck. She'd lost it all and the rent was due, but her luck had been about to change, she thought, when her cash had run out. If she only had one or two thousand reales, she could recover. She was sure of it.

I slipped a thick stack of American currency across the counter. "I understand—to get a seat at the last minute is _very_ expensive," I murmured in soft Portuguese.

She looked at the money with wide eyes, and then her hand closed over the bribe and pulled it out of sight. "You are very lucky," she replied, smiling. "It seems we have one seat left after all," and her fingers flew across the keyboard, deleting some unlucky person's reservation while she thought, _It is a sign. It is a good omen._

_There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, doing more murder in this loathsome world …_. I pursued the wisp of a thought as she printed my boarding pass. Who had said that? Romeo, of course, as he persuaded the ancient apothecary to sell him forbidden poison. _I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none._ Romeo had been right, I thought suddenly. He had been right about everything. He had seen that when Juliet was gone, death was no evil. And you could sit back and watch the world burn because it no longer concerned you. You were out of the game.

I had always rather despised Romeo for the scene in Act Five where he hears of Juliet's death. With only a single bitter exclamation, he rides off to purchase his poison, and yet, I used to think, if ever there were a time for grandiose speeches, it should have been then. Why didn't he shape fury and anguish into verbal blows until the boards of the stage shuddered with echoes of a grief to shake the universe?

But now I understood. He said nothing because to speak would have been a waste of time. The connection between a word and meaning is tenuous at best. Those slender tethers had snapped.

All that remained was to _do_.

_The End_

**A/N** I'd like to take this chance to once again thank all of you for your very generous reviews. This will probably be my last EPOV (I was quite disappointed in _Breaking Dawn_, but I still plan to see the movie, so I suppose there's a chance I'll get re-inspired!), but I've had a blast fiddling around in this fandom, thanks to your encouragement and enthusiasm.

Cheers! -Philippa


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